


Tea, Herr Baron?

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baron Wulfenbach is about to celebrate an important birthday, but what do you give the man who has everything?  With the help of the ingenious Mr Wooster, Gil comes up with the perfect idea... well... maybe!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea, Herr Baron?

“Ah, Wooster,” said Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. “There you are! Sit down. I need someone intelligent to talk to.”

Ardsley Wooster sat down with the care which had become habitual. The long red coat with the huge shoulders that he wore on duty was a splendid garment, but it was not his usual style and it did crush rather easily. “I'm flattered, Master Gil,” he said with a smile, “but I fear you are lacking something of your usual clarity. I trust you were not up late again last night?”

Gil shot him a look which was somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “You know me a damn sight too well. So what do you mean I'm lacking clarity?”

“Well, sir, if all you needed was an intelligent person, there are other sparks aboard this vessel, and I am of course not a spark. Therefore, you are not merely seeking intelligence. You also require some other quality which a spark might, perhaps, not possess to the same degree as an ordinary intelligent person.”

“Very diplomatic, Wooster,” said Gil, smiling in spite of himself. “You're right. I'm looking for someone with a bit of practical common sense, and you have that in abundant measure. You see, it's my father's birthday next week.”

“Ah! I knew nothing about that,” said Mr Wooster. “He's never celebrated it before, as far as I know.”

“No, he hasn't, but this is rather a special birthday,” Gil explained. “Several bits of him are going to be fifty.”

“Ah. Yes. I begin to see why he doesn't celebrate his birthday every year,” said Mr Wooster, mildly embarrassed.

“Quite so. It does get confusing. But he has decided to make an exception this time. On a small scale, of course. There'll be a nice dinner, and the senior minions will be invited. That'll include you. I did insist on that.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Mr Wooster.

“And it's all right,” Gil continued. “I did notice that look which crossed your face just now. Nobody will make you sit next to Dupree again.”

“Ah.” Mr Wooster let out a breath. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Yes, we're going to sit her between my father and one of the Jägergenerals this time. It's the only safe thing to do. You... I really should have asked this before... you don't still get any pain in that arm, do you?”

“Only the occasional twinge, sir.”

“Glad to hear it. Anyway, the reason I want to talk to you is that I have no idea what to give him. I mean, he already has everything. I was racking my brains over it until... well, I won't tell you what time last night, or you'll give me the eyebrow.”

“Oh, but sir!” said Mr Wooster. “Surely you've overlooked the obvious?”

Gil stared at him. “I suppose if I have, it wouldn't be the first time,” he said, slowly. “Come on, then. Out with it.”

“Well, sir, there is one thing you have which your father does not.”

“Youth? Come on, Wooster, I'm a damn good spark, but I'm not that damn good. I can't make him young again.”

“Oh, no, sir, nothing of that nature. You have... a gentleman's gentleman.”

“But my father won't have anyone like that,” Gil protested. “He wouldn't trust anyone.”

“He could trust a clank,” Mr Wooster pointed out. “And you would be just the person to build him one.”

“Sweet lightning, Wooster!” Gil jumped to his feet, alight with enthusiasm, and clapped Mr Wooster hard on the shoulder. Sometimes, those outsized pads were a useful thing. “That is actually brilliant. There are moments when I'm really glad you're not a spark. You'd be a scary one.”

“I think I can safely say that I, too, am glad I am not a spark,” replied Mr Wooster.

Gil eyed him narrowly. “You didn't have to put quite so much feeling into that.”

“I merely appreciate my sleep, sir.”

“Heh. That point I will concede,” said Gil. “All right, Wooster. I'm off to the lab. Once the clank is finished, I will call you, but if I finish it in the middle of the night I promise you I won't call you till dawn.”

“You'll call me... why, sir, if I may ask?”

“Well, it's obvious, isn't it? I'm going to need you to teach it its duties!”

Mr Wooster went to bed early that night, as a precaution. He was fairly certain that Gil would call him at dawn, and, sure enough, that was what happened. He rose, dressed quickly, and followed the Jäger who had been sent to fetch him.

“Is the young master in a good mood, André?” he enquired. This was always a sensible question; if the answer was “no” he could still generally deal with it, but it was as well to be prepared.

“Ho yez, Mister Vooster,” replied the Jäger, with a grin. “He yust built a really nize shiny clenk.”

Ah, thought Mr Wooster. Yes. _That_ kind of good mood. That can sometimes be more difficult than the bad ones. Ah well, once more into the breach and all that.

“Ah, Wooster!” said Gil. He was dishevelled and unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes, but he was grinning from ear to ear. “Behold!”

There were certain words, Mr Wooster reflected, which generally meant some kind of trouble when uttered by a spark. “Behold!” was one of them. Nonetheless, he obligingly beholded.

The Jäger had been quite right. It was, indeed, a really nice shiny clank, all polished brass and rounded dark green panels. The flying castle insignia of the Wulfenbach family gleamed on its breast.

“Oh, very elegant, sir,” said Mr Wooster. “Very elegant indeed. I'm sure the Baron will be thrilled.”

“I'm certainly hoping so,” said Gil, rubbing his hands. “Now. Off you go, Wooster. Show it what to do. For the purpose of role play, I am going to pretend to be my father for now.”

“Ah, that does make things easier,” said Mr Wooster. “Thank you, sir. Does it... he... have a name?”

“Yes. His name is Ludwig.”

The clank's eyes glowed green. “I am Ludwig, sir. I await your instructions.” He seemed to be addressing Mr Wooster.

“Yes, he's talking to you, Wooster,” said Gil. “Get on with it.”

Mr Wooster got on with it. Ludwig, as one might expect from any clank of Gil's, was a quick learner, and soon he was fully conversant with everything from the correct way to iron a shirt to the forms of address to be used towards any possible aristocrat, elected official or member of the clergy he might ever remotely encounter. There was, however, one thing with which he clearly struggled.

“Master Gil,” said Mr Wooster, “I fear Ludwig may need some additional gears, or something of that nature.”

Gil sipped Ludwig's latest attempt at tea with distaste. “I don't like to say this, Wooster, but I'm afraid there's a chance you may be right,” he said. “This is really not good tea.”

“I humbly apologise, Master,” said Ludwig. “I will try again.”

“You get everything else right, Ludwig,” said Mr Wooster, who was a great believer in positive encouragement. “This surely can't be so hard, can it?”

“Well, of course, I am rather spoiled in this respect,” said Gil. “I mean, I've got you making tea for me, Wooster. That's a hard standard for anyone to match.”

“It is very kind of you to say so, sir,” replied Mr Wooster, “but we must be realistic. The question is not whether this tea is as good as I could make, but whether it is good enough for your father to drink. I fear he will not find it drinkable as things stand.”

Gil sighed. “No, you're right. Keep trying, Wooster. You're being very patient. I _could_ add extra gears, and it is possible that I might have to, but... well, you know how it is with clanks once they're conscious. It would be like performing surgery. So we'll see if we can do it the other way first, shall we?”

It was Mr Wooster's turn to sigh. “Yes, sir.” He foresaw a very late night in his immediate future.

In the end, however, Gil finally let him go just after midnight. That was later than he wanted, but nowhere near as late as he had feared. By dint of all the patience he possessed, and breaking the task down into near-microscopic steps, he had finally succeeded in getting Ludwig to make at least a passable cup of tea. Not perfection, nor indeed anywhere near it, but at least a cup of tea that both he and Gil agreed was fit to be given to the Baron without fear that he would summarily upend the contents into the nearest house plant.

“Oh, and Wooster,” Gil called after him, as he stumbled wearily out of the lab, “I won't be calling you early tomorrow. Have a lie in. You deserve it, after all that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mr Wooster called back gratefully.

A few days later, the Baron was sitting reading through some dispatches when Gil came in to see him with the clank in tow. “Good morning, son,” said the Baron, glancing up at him.

“Good morning, and... a very happy birthday, father,” said Gil, beaming. “I thought, since it was a special occasion, I'd make you a little gift.” He indicated Ludwig, who bowed.

The Baron put down his papers. “A clank? Very elegant, but it can hardly have escaped your notice that I have many clanks. Still, I do appreciate it. It was a kind thought.”

“Ah, but you don't have a clank like Ludwig,” said Gil triumphantly. “He's going to be your Wooster.”

The Baron raised his eyebrows. “My Wooster? I am not entirely certain that I need a Wooster.”

“He was actually Wooster's idea, though of course I built him,” Gil explained. “I asked him what to give you for your birthday, since you already had everything, and he pointed out that you didn't have a gentleman's gentleman. So, here he is.”

“Oh? Wooster's idea? I trust you didn't leave him alone with that clank at any point?”

“Father, I'm not stupid. I did have Wooster teach him his duties, because I knew there was nobody who could do it better, but I was there the whole time. I told him it was so that I could roleplay you, and he seemed to be happy with that.”

“Well, he would, wouldn't he?” said the Baron. “I really do enjoy watching Wooster. That open, expressive, honest face of his says so much and so little. He is an education. I am having some of my best spies learn from him.”

Gil grinned. “He's clever. And I must admit, I do like that in him. But, no, he did not tamper with the clank. I can give you full assurance of that.”

“Good. Well, then, let us see what it can do.” He looked up at Ludwig. “Ludwig?”

“Yes, Master?”

“Get me a cup of tea.” He frowned. “And it had better be a good cup of tea. I don't know what they think they're doing in the kitchens at the moment, but the tea has gone to hell since I sacked my last head chef.”

“Er, Father... I should think that probably means that whoever makes the tea was, er, very fond of the chef,” said Gil.

“Well, you'd know, I dare say,” said the Baron, with a flick of an eyebrow. “I'll send a couple of the Jägers in to investigate later. Meanwhile, let's see what Ludwig here can do.”

Ludwig's eyes glowed. “Yes, Master!” He left the room hurriedly.

They waited. Then they waited a little more.

“Taking a long time, isn't it?” asked the Baron.

Gil shifted position uneasily. “Yes... yes. I can't think what's keeping him.”

“You did, I suppose, ask Wooster to teach him to make tea?”

“Well, naturally. It's an essential skill, and Wooster's an expert at it. But... well, I must admit that was the most difficult thing. Ludwig picked everything else up very fast, but the tea was a struggle. I wouldn't let Wooster go until Ludwig could make a cup of tea we both thought would be fit for you to drink.”

“Curious.” The corner of the Baron's mouth twitched a little. “Dear me. I hope Ludwig is not... frightened.”

“That is a possibility,” Gil admitted, uncomfortably. “Oh, wait! I think I hear him coming back.”

Ludwig returned. In one hand he was carrying, not a tea tray, but an exceedingly discombobulated Ardsley Wooster.

“I do not think my tea is good enough for you, Master,” he announced. “So I have brought the expert.” He deposited Mr Wooster gently, though without a great deal of dignity, in front of the Baron.

“Nnngh,” said Mr Wooster. “Ah, er. Herr Baron.” He managed a bow, which was quite impressive in the circumstances.

The Baron tried to look at him gravely, and completely failed. He was unable to prevent himself from breaking into a grin.

“Ah, Wooster,” he said. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“It is equally unexpected for me, Herr Baron,” replied Mr Wooster, rapidly re-assembling his dignity. “Well, I had perhaps better go and make you a cup of tea now.”

“Please do that. Also one for my son, and another for yourself, should you wish,” said the Baron.

“Thank you, Herr Baron,” said Mr Wooster, and hurried out.

“Aaargh,” said Gil. “I'm so sorry, father. I had absolutely no idea it would do that.”

The Baron beamed. “But don't you see, son? This is wonderful! You have built a clank which is aware of its own failings, and uses lateral thinking techniques to address them. I'm proud of you!”

“Gosh,” said Gil. “Well. Thank you!”

“It's far too good at what it does to be a valet,” the Baron continued. “Well, of course, so is Wooster, but he's another matter. I shall be giving it command of a division. I trust,” he added, with his head a little on one side, “that you have no objection to that?”

“Oh... none at all, father,” said Gil, hastily.

“Good,” said the Baron, sitting back in his chair. “You know, I do believe that this is already the best birthday I have ever had.”


End file.
